Tuesday, June 26, 2012

My bra is totally going skydiving!!

I should preface this post by saying that guys just aren't going to give a shit. And now you know.

Ok girls, we all know how important it is to have a bra in all 3 of the following colors- Black, White and Nude. Of course we also have 18 other bras of various colors and patterns, but those 3 are essential. Recently my washer ate my nude bra. I was so angry at my washer! First of all, that was a $50 bra that it decide to chew up and twist around beyond recognition. Secondly, I needed to wear it, it was the only bra appropriate for the outfit I had planned. I had to re-plan my outfit and I was not a happy camper about it.

So the next day I decided to stop by Victoria's Secret on my way home and pick up a new nude bra. Easy peasy, right?  Wrong.

I got to Victoria's Secret and walked directly to the display that holds the bra that I always wear. The Very Sexy bra. I always get the same one because I love it more than I love craisins.

Yep, even more than I love these

Why do I love it so much? Well, if you  have ever shopped for a bra in Victoria's Secret you know that it is almost impossible to find a bra that is not so padded that it could stop a bullet. Maybe that is a good thing for women who are totally flat. But I am not and I am not trying to give anyone false hope that my girls are any bigger than what they really are. The Very Sexy bra has just enough padding and lift to make me feel sexy (great marketing on that one) and not like my breasts are chafing against my chin.  Speaking of up against your chin.... they have a bra that is supposed to make you look 2 cup sizes bigger than you are. WTF would I want to do that for????  C is big enough, thanks. I won't let pervy men tell me any differently.

 This is the Very Sexy bra. I do NOT look like this when I wear it. *Sadness*

Anywho, since I always buy the same bra I am pretty much certain of the price. So I paw through the drawer until I find my size in nude and prepare to head to the register. However, before I am able to shut the drawer I notice that there is a Very Sexy bra there that is soooooo pretty. It's white and pink and has these little sparkly rhinestones on it. I couldn't help myself, I had to have it. So I took both bras, some lip gloss and a nightshirt and headed up to the register. 

The very excited and helpful and happy 17 year old who checked me out was overly enthusiastic about how I had purchased that sparkly bra. "OMG, I just LOOOOOVE this one. We only got two of them in this color. I think it is just GORGEOUS!". I agreed, although I did it with markedly less enthusiasm. She rang me up and I paid and left the store to head home. 

As I was walking back to my car I thought to myself that the total I paid seemed like more than what I had anticipated it to be. So when I got home I took my things out of that ridiculous pink striped bag and took a hard look at my receipt. 

Lip Gloss- $10 each
Night Shirt- $30
Nude Very Sexy Bra- $48 (as expected)
Sparkly Very Sexy Bra- $98 (NOT FUCKING EXPECTED)

I must have looked at it 10 times thinking they must have charged me for two of the sparkly bras. But no. That price is just for one.

Just so we can all be on the same page about my dismay over the price of this bra, I took a picture of it along side the other very same bras I have, just less the rhinestones: 

Yes it is a pretty bra. But for reals. Really for reals...... $98???? I could probably bedazzle my own bra for way less money. Those rhinestones better have been hand sewn on by poor dirty starving children in a sweatshop in a 3rd world country to warrant that price. Rhinestones made of Unicorn dust and Fairy tears. Maybe they aren't rhinestones.... maybe they are blood diamonds!

I thought really hard about putting it back in the stupid striped bag and stomping back into Victoria's Secret to return it. But I was just too lazy. I didn't want to get back in the car. I could have taken it the next day, or even the next time I was out, but I just knew that if I didn't do it right that second, it would never happen. So instead I made a silent vow to get my $98 worth out of the damn bra. 

 "As God as my witness, I shall wear this bra til the rhinestones, which are surely made of compressed powder of the bones of those poor animals in the ASPCA commercials, fall off!"

My fancy bra has already been camping on the coast, walking (not running because it doesn't offer enough support) on the river trail, it's going on a motorcycle ride tomorrow and I have big plans to (someday) jump out of a plane in this bra.  

This bra better get me some action! Although, I am assuming that by the time someone see's it, I have already sealed the deal. but still!

Note to self- Check out the tag before you assume you know how much something costs at Victoria's Secret. They are sneaky fuckers, and clearly proud of their shit.

Thursday, June 21, 2012

Let's all countdown to my impending humilation, shall we?

Soooooooo, I am meeting up with my friend this evening so that we can "talk".

My hope is that he wouldn't be luring me out into a public setting just to make me cry when he reiterates how royally fucked up I am and the shitty thing I did.

My expectation is that he is going to lure me out into a public setting just to make me cry when he reiterates how royally fucked up I am and the shitty thing I did.


I seriously feel like I am going to throw up. 7pm cannot get here fast enough so I can get this over with.

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Clowns are not evil, but their balloons are a different story

I have a totally unnatural, irrational fear of balloons. It's not the visual of the balloon that frightens me, it is knowing that it could pop at any moment that keeps my heart beating too fast and my palms sweaty.

I don't like to be startled. Jack in the boxes (the toy, not the restaurant) are enough to give me a small heart attack. And do not even get me started on those little compressed refrigerator tubes of biscuit dough. F*** you, you open it. I am going to watch with my ears plugged.

The WORST thing in life for me is to have to be within visual and hearing distance of a child with a balloon. You know how they do, squeezing it and sucking on it and biting it until the poor balloon explodes and the child cries it's face off like it's been shot. Well the child could care less, but I feel as though I have been shot and then it takes an hour for my pulse to slow and to breathe normally again. The anxiety is terrible for me. Even if the balloon doesn't pop, I am so aware of the fact that it might that I drive myself to distraction.

Two years ago on my birthday my roommate thought she was being funny and blew up like 50 balloons (how long it took her I will never know) and FILLED my bathroom with them. When I got up to go to work the next morning I opened the door to my bathroom to find 50 manifestations of my biggest fear covering all the floor. I was late to work. It took me forever to pick up each balloon, one at a time, and carry it into the living room and set it gently down as to not pop it. Point 1 goes to roommate.

A couple of days ago I was on mission "Beg Forgiveness". One of my very close friends is a wee bit perturbed at me at the moment. Ok way more than a wee bit, as outlined in my last post.  I thought to myself "People love balloons! Everyone but me anyway". So I went down to the flower shop and got 3 balloons.  I was feeling pretty brave. I felt like I was confronting my fears, like when people scared of heights go skydiving. Have I mentioned I am also scared of heights? Anyway..... I practically swaggered back out to my car, I was so proud of myself. I placed the 3 balloons in the back seat and proceeded to head home.  It was a stressful drive home to say the least. I kept catching glimpses of the offending balloons in my rearview mirror. I just knew that any second one of them would explode and my life would be over. I know, dramatic. Remember when I said it was a totally unnatural and irrational fear? Mmmmhmmm.

So as I am driving down the road, singing along to the radio and contemplating what step 2 of operation "Beg Forgiveness" should be, one of those ungrateful bastard balloons had the audacity to pop!!! Naturally I lost my mind.

I swear to you that I almost peed my pants. I shrieked at the top of my lungs and my car went careening towards the low center divider on the road. I managed to avoid serious damage by correcting back and the good news is that I don't think I bent the wheel when I bumped into it. The bad news is that the terror surely sucked 10 years off my lifespan. A very concerned and friendly driver took the time to flip me off on his way past me. Jerk. Like I'm not already traumatized enough.

I was no longer swaggering as I removed the two remaining balloons from my car when I got home. Luckily I managed the rest of the drive without incident. But I was then faced with the realization that those two balloons were going to be hanging out in my house until I could deliver them.... and delivering them meant getting back in the car with them. I could have cried. I almost did. I was very very tempted to call the florist and have them come pick up the balloons and deliver them for me. But I though better of it. This sort of operation is so important that it can only be carried out in person.

Thankfully those two balloons were on their best behavior the rest of the night and had the decency to not pop, not even when I used a black sharpy marker to write a personal, heartfelt "I am sorry I suck so much" on them.  And the next day I put them back in my car and prepared to make my way across town. I was a wreck. I couldn't get there fast enough. All I could think of was how relieved I would be when they were out of my house and my car.

My friend seemed less than enthused with my peace offering. But I was happy to have them out of my possession.  The drive home was blissfully uneventful.

Note to self- Take Valium before balloon handling. Your poor heart can't handle another episode like that.
Post Script to note- Don't be a dick to your friends and then you won't need to buy forgiveness balloons like an idiot.
Post Post Script- If you do screw up this badly ever again, maybe say you're sorry with a singing telegram. Or a stripper-gram.


I went directly to page 42.... just like a dumb ass

The good thing about those "Choose your own Adventure" books is that even if you make the wrong choice and end up in the Alligator pit, there are no long term, real life consequences. You just say "Oh shit", and then close the book and go about your life. You aren't literally in an Alligator pit and facing a slow death of sharp teeth and claws.

So here I am, treading water. Hoping that the Alligators don't get my toes and searching for a life preserver. I did it to myself. I knew better and yet I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and walked right off the cliff.

That was a really really dumb thing to do. It was dumb for 2 reasons:

1) I knew that the person I was giving this important chance for change wouldn't, in fact, change. I KNEW it like I know that the sky is blue and that Big Foot really does exist.

All my friends and family knew it too. And despite their very prophetic warnings, I laughed in the face of impending doom and started handing out 2nd, 3rd, and 18th chance cards like they were going out of style. I'll give it to my friends and family for not tying me up and shipping me out of state to keep from doing it, they just politely told me that they support me no matter what. And then I am sure they all collectively rolled their eyes behind my back and prepared their "I told you so" speeches for later use. Bring on the speeches guys, I have earned them. I should get a shiny gold star for being the biggest idiot on the planet.  It took only about 10 minutes to realize the error of my ways. But by that point the decision had been made and so I decided to try to ride it out and see if maybe there would be some magic moment of redemption that would make me believe in him again. A moment that would make me feel like I had done the right thing. That moment never came. Not only did that moment never come, the time I spent waiting for it was peppered with various moments of new disappointment. And over the course of the last few weeks, as I have been slowly shutting down to him more and more, I realized that it wouldn't have mattered if he had done every single thing right from now til the end of eternity. What I felt for him before all the lies and all the broken promises is gone.  All I have left for him is sadness. I feel sad for him because he will probably never grow up. He will never find someone to spend his life with if he continues to treat people the way he has treated me. And one day he will wake up and realize what he had, and what he could have continued to have if only he would have thought about someone besides himself for a change. But that might be giving him too much credit, because after all, he has had this long to figure it out and hasn't managed to yet. Sadness....that is all I have left for him. And for me to, I am not immune to a little bit of self pity. But I will get over that in time. It was a very sparkly shiny happy picture for a moment, and now I just wish I could take it all back.

2) I hurt someone who has only ever been amazing to me when I acted like a dumb ass and jumped into the Alligator pit. I hurt him a lot. So now I am waiting to see if my closest and oldest friend can forgive me. It's not looking good at the moment. He speaks to me, but only begrudgingly and in as few syllables as possible. I deserve it. I deserve for him to tell me to kick rocks and never speak to me again at all. I am desperately hoping that with a little time he will come around. When I think of not having him as my friend I feel a little bit like I can't breathe. "Find that person you truly are Rebecca Jean, before the men in your life fucked you up"..... is what he said to me. And as good advice as it really is, he might as well have slapped me in the face. Let's not mince words here, tell me how fucked up you think I am. *sigh*......

So I am going to do me. No one does me like I do! I am going to make arrangements to live on my own for the first time.... ever. I have always had a roommate or lived with the man in my life. I am a little scared to be moving forward by myself. I'm worried that I am going to have way too much time on my own to sit around and think about how badly I have managed to screw up one of the only good and constant things in my life. The good news is I will also have plenty of time to think of how to best move forward and how to best be happy just being me.

Thankfully I have amazing friends and family who won't let me sit around and wallow in self pity for too long. I already am receiving strict instructions to put my sassy pants on and put a smile on my face. It won't be hard, I don't stay down for long. Things blow right now, a whole lot, but that's life. Shit happens that we don't want or expect and we just keep plugging along. I am a good person. I have a big heart. Maybe it is a big stupid heart that always wants to give people one more chance to crap all over my life, but I would rather have that than the alternative.

"Ain't nothing gonna break my stride
Nobody's gonna slow me down
Oh no, I've got to keep on moving
Ain't nothing gonna break my stride
I'm running and I won't touch ground
Oh no, I've got to keep on moving"

For my next trick, I am going to choose to have a happy ending. I wonder what page that is on. Here's to finding out! Cheers!